Cry for love

It’s the weirdest fucking thing.

It happened on Saturday, at the most inopportune time (during a concert I was really excited to see). Then it hit me again this morning during my drive into work. Both times I was inexplicably struck with a wave of emotion that resulted in me actually crying.

Crying is not something I indulge in very often. Maybe I should. Especially since I was big crier as a child. My mom always said I was sensitive. My dad thought I was a wuss. But I was an emotional kid, and it didn’t take much for me to explode into tears back then.

Of course, over the years I came to realize that it wasn’t very becoming for a boy to cry. You got called names and girls thought you were weird. So like most males, I developed various means and methods to shut down that whole channel of emotion.

But as I dig deeper into my mysterious endeavor that I’m about to undertake, I keep hitting these patches of feeling that have been dormant for years. And I haven’t even gotten to the really heavy lifting yet. Oh boy, this is going to be quite the journey.

What’s become most apparent is the heartbreak of what could have been. That seems to be the crux of this new influx of sadness. It’s part nostalgia, part embarrassment, part lost youth. While I long for the ambitious, emotionally open, eager young man of days gone by, I also can’t believe how stupid and naïve I was. If I’d only been smarter, or a little more prepared, or something. I was so primed to ‘make it happen’ that my scouting for teammates was less than thorough. So there I was, ready to rule the world, surrounded by idiots.

It sounds harsh, but it’s true. Let’s take a look at the suspects, shall we? One went crazy and ended up in prison. Another just kind of gave up the ghost, got hitched, had a kid and now lives a pale imitation of what he initially strove for back in the day.

Not that I’m living like a fucking rock star over here. But I’m still doing it. I’m still here, building this church brick by brick, and by my own hand. I’m humble, but proud. I survived the betrayal, jealously, maliciousness and the rest of it to find the real me deep inside. Together, we’ve stuck it out and made it all the way here. I mean, we’re right here. Nose pressed up to the glass, memorizing every brand of candy so tantalizingly displaying in neat little rows that go on for miles.

Now, it’s the young ones that get me. When I see them following in my invisible footsteps towards life on TV, it warms my heart. When they walk around the stupid missteps and run faster in the right direction, it makes me even happier.

But sometimes, when I look it squarely in the eye, I can see that twinge of sadness, of sympathy and of regret. The heartbreak of what could have been. It brings tears to my eyes.